


my guiding moonlight

by dreadfulbeauties



Category: Bloodborne (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Dancing, M/M, Pre-Canon, a little fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-20
Updated: 2021-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-29 00:22:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30147894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreadfulbeauties/pseuds/dreadfulbeauties
Summary: They wax and wane, dance and reminisce about a past they can't go back to.
Relationships: Laurence/Ludwig (Bloodborne)
Kudos: 11





	my guiding moonlight

The moon is out tonight.

Laurence traipses through half-remembered paths down the corridors, candle flickering dully in hand. Distinguishing between what’s fake and what’s real is a chore these days. Memories of people slip through his fingertips like dust. His chest constricts with every breath he takes these days and he’s taken to curling up alone in bed, feeling like fire dances beneath his skin. But tonight he has the strength to wander as a ghost through the halls of the Healing Church, footsteps going _tap-tap_ upon the creaking floorboards.

Outside the sky is clear, the deep cold blue of the sea, and the moon full and bright — a rarity these days. He’s not sure which room in the Church that he ended up in, where moonlight shines softly in white upon the smattering of dust motes on the floor. Back in the early days when he was only nineteen going on twenty, he’d memorized this place and could have walked where he pleased with his eyes closed if he tried. But Laurence doesn’t remember much of anything now, and what he does remember of the old days and the people he shared them with are censored in a smattering of rotted blood. 

_And you?_ Says a voice in the back of his mind. _What shall you do? Cry? Weep?_

Laurence smiles, and says to himself very faintly, “I’m going to dance.”

He tries to summon memories of dancing lessons from his days at Byrgenwerth. Those were wonderful times, weren’t they? He paces across the floor clumsily, trying to get a feel for a pattern. There he was with Ludwig before the dance that night, frustrated because the ribbon he wore around that lacy shirt collar of his wouldn’t tie quite right. But Ludwig had taken his ribbons between his fingers and looped it into a proper shape closer to what Laurence wanted, told him he’d be welcome to help.

(He thinks it must have been Ludwig or Maria who taught him how to dance. Though he can’t remember the precise color of Maria’s eyes — Laurence isn’t sure he’d want to after that one last look at her waxy, cold face in the coffin before she was buried beneath the ground — he can hear her voice ringing cool and clear in his head. _Step, two, three, step, two, three._ )

When Laurence closes his eyes lights dance and he’s not alone in the dilapidated, dusty room anymore, cobwebs tearing beneath his boots. He’s with Ludwig in the ballroom again — before the Healing Church, before he let poison run through the waters so that all eyes would be on him and Yharnam would know he was the one who had the answers, back when the consistency of true kindness was still a frightening novelty to him. Ludwig assures him it’s alright, he’s not much of a dancer himself. But he manages to navigate them in circles. It’s strange, really, seeing the image of Ludwig in his mind illuminated by fuzzy gold light, a face untouched by scars and still bright with idealism.

He opens his eyes to heavy footfalls just outside. Ludwig’s silhouette occupies the doorway, dark blue eyes twinkling like fallen stars. It’s interesting, really, that the knight of shining armor that is the Healing Church’s pride and joy ( _Laurence’s_ pride and joy, because Ludwig was the one who showed him what gentleness meant, during those lazy mornings spent with his head resting on his chest to listen to the thrumming of his heartbeat).

“May I dance with you?”

He draws Ludwig into the room, their fingers curling tentatively together.

_For someone supposed to be holy,_ Laurence thinks, _I’ve committed many sins._

Ludwig puts his arm shyly around his waist — he’s taken to treating Laurence a bit more like a fragile doll to be held as of late, he gets sicker by the day. Ghosts swim in and out of sight.

But Ludwig is no ghost.

They guide each other around in circles, in sync. This much they remember this much from the days of long ago. 

“Nothing will fix itself, will it?” Ludwig’s voice cuts like broken glass, ragged and fragile, through the sudden silence. “We’re past the point of no return.”

For a moment Laurence only smiles. Then:

“No, it won’t.”

He wants to say more, but Ludwig holds him close so he won’t fall. So they dance in silence. Not for the Church, not for Yharnam, not for any facade. They dance for themselves. Laurence isn’t sure why — the days bleed seamlessly into one another, they can only trudge forward. And he suspects that whatever dream he constructed is falling apart around him. 

But for now the moonlight that halos them is enough.

**Author's Note:**

> twitter: misskriemhilds (i am under 18, just a heads up in case you're uncomfortable interacting with minors. if your twitter is mostly or all 18+ content, please don't follow me!)  
> (i have a small discord server dedicated to my videogame hyperfixations, i will invite you if i feel as though we're on friendly enough terms)
> 
> this just happened and i rolled with it. not much to say here.


End file.
